Nothing Remains
by Otte
Summary: In the illegal sport of Combuskenfighting, many die. Many lose their minds. Many have no regrets. But sometimes, a Combusken will fight until nothing remains...


**Nothing Remains**  
_**Written by Otte, idea by PDII**_

_There is a lot involved in the skill of murder._

The Combusken leapt back, dodging a bloody claw. The Pokemon dragged it's claws through the enemy Combusken's yellow down. The creature cried out in pain and blasted his foe with a burst of orange fire.

_There is a lot at stake when murder becomes a competition._

The hushed roar of the crowd around the ring was deafening to the combatants. The bloody pumped in their ears and adrenaline charged through the crowd in general. There was always a feeling of excitement, because even if no Combusken died (as rare as that was), there was always escaping from the cops.

_When another's pain is your pleasure, you begin to lose sense of where to stop._

The Combusken fighter cawed in alarm as the other toppled it down to the ground, sharp, deadly claws raked through skin. Blood welled up from the body, oozing onto the floor. Still the Combusken tried to get up, tried to fight.

_And when your life is at stake, nothing matters. _

With a ear-piercing scream, the fire Pokemon threw his foe aside and leapt at him, blowing fire directly at his eyes. With a pained cry, the other Pokemon writhed as the fire consumed his eyes and burned through his skull.

_Nothing matters._

The Combusken struggled, the pleas for release from the pain went unheard by his foe as the pokemon was applauded for his murderous fighting skills. Excitedly, the humans around began to tally up the bets for the death. A few cursed but calmed after a moment. There was always next time.

_This is all there is. This was my life._

A young Combusken watched, her eyes burning with anticipation. Her master, a boy no older than 17, held her back by her feathers,

"At least try and put on a good show," the 'trainer' hissed at the Combusken. The fighting type ignored him, only hearing the heart beating in her chest.

_This was my fate._

Cimorene stepped forward as her name was announced for the next fight. Sniggers and jeers echoed around her. Nobody thought that a female Combusken was capable of fighting in these matches. A tame battle, perhaps, but not a wild, ferocious fight like this.

She glanced back for only a second to see the reaction of her master, Rob. He stood with his arms folded, a look of uncertainty on his tanned features. A few humans around him nudged him and asked if he was feeling alright in the head, but he ignored it.

Cimorene knew full well what he had done. He thought she couldn't fight. He'd put his money on the other fight. She looked forward, burning with even more resolve.

"And here comes Razor. We're in for a little bloodbath here," the a nearby spectator said, chuckling. A tall, thin Combusken entered the ring. He had abnormally large claws and flicked from foot to foot, his fur was ragged and it seemed like his eyes couldn't focus.

He was weak, she thought, his mind had given in. She charged forward, plunging her claws towards Razor's chest.

Razor leapt out the way , showing a remarkable agility she hadn't expected. She rolled aside as a column of fire flew towards her. She stood up quickly, watching Razor's movements carefully. He hopped endlessly and he had a frenzied, sort of desperate look in her eyes.

No, she couldn't fall into that trap, she thought to herself as Razor darted towards her, she couldn't give in to emotion. It was do or die, there was no room for emotion, pity or mercy.

She grabbed Razor's outstretched arm between her claws and swung him into the ground. His bones cracked painfully and she leapt without hesitation at him. Her claws tore through his flesh as her heart began to pound louder. The scent of blood was upon her. Razor screeched in protest and pushed her aside with a blast of weak, yellow fire.

He's weakened, she realised. She cast aside all thought and emotion as she dashed towards him. She tore further through his flesh, crushing his bones and boiling his blood with fire. She cried out in triumph as the combatant, now faceless and nameless to her, dropped to the floor. He was dead.

A moment of surprised silence passed through the crowd, before followed with a thunderous applause. She crouched on the blood-stained ground and looked at her claws. Blood and feathery down covered them. She smiled. She'd done it.

Adrenaline still coursed through her body and she felt god-like, unstoppable. She screamed out in triumph again, raking her claws through her victim's corpse and leaving only a mangled mess where he had once been.

Rob approached her, cursing slightly at the loss of his bet but at the same time pleased with the Combusken's first kill.

"Move out! There's a patrol comin'!" a human voice yelled. Cimorene looked over to see a man dashing towards the crowd. Humans quickly in a panic returned their fighters to their pokeballs, knowing how much trouble they'd be in for participating in this illegal sport. She closed her eyes as she was consumed by light and returned into the darkness.

The roar of the crowd.

This was the first thing Cimorene noticed as she was released again. A year had passed since her first kill and she'd become renowned in the sport. Rob had travelled around Hoenn and she had killed many. She was strong and muscular now, but to the normal trainer she was a sight to be disgusted at. Her yellow feathers were torn and ragged and her claws were chipped and stained with bloody near the base. Her beak was gnarled from tearing through flesh and she smelled strongly of blood. Her eyes had a sort of cold emptiness to them which frightened many.

She had begun to lose thought. All that existed was the fight. The blood. The roar of the crowd. The adrenaline. The death.

That was all that existed in her world.

She looked over at her foe, not registering his name. He was small. And his plumage was in good shape. A young fighter. A new one.

Cimorene stared coldly at him, poised for battle. He shivered, orange eyes overflowing with fear and misery. Weak, she thought, he was easy to kill. It was another cull. When they had a fighter that they deemed worthless, they had it killed in a fight against a much stronger Combusken.

That was her first fight. A failed cull.

She ripped through the air towards him, seizing hold of him and twisting his body. Bones cracked beneath skin and feathers. He cried out in pain and released a low sob, tears trickling from his eyes.

She threw him aside, partly taken aback by the show of emotion.

No, she thought, do not become as weak as him. You must kill him. Killing is all you're here for.

He struggled to his feet as a few of his own bones tore through his skin, rattled and broken by Cimorene's attack.

She paused briefly. He was making a few strange noises. Choked sobs. Pleas. Nobody had ever pleaded to her before. Most of them had been culls that were trying to fight or hardened fighters like her.

She released a harsh cry, shaking herself out of her thoughts as she slashed at him. He didn't fight back. He tumbled aside as her claws made contact, blood dripping from the gashes. He whimpered weakly, placing his claws over his head in preparation for his fate.

She struck him hard, tearing him apart. She destroyed him, leaving his ribcage upon for the Murkrow to dine from.

But not before she had heard his last words. Uttered with such disgust and sorrow but at the same time a feeling of desperate hopelessness.

Look at what've you become…

The words echoed inside her mind. It screamed over the applause of the crowd, it overrode the glory and power that surged through her body. For a second she was staring at her own face, looking into her own empty eyes.

Her heart began to pound; she looked at herself in disgust. She reached forward with a claw and tore through her face. The image shattered like a mirror, as she saw the hollow beast she had become. Her soul, beaten and hidden, shrieked for release as she began to destroy herself.

Bodies littered the floor. Smoke billowed from the houses around as the Combusken began to tear apart everything that had made her what she was, everything that had beaten her soul and tainted her. She was blinded by a fierce light, but she saw more clearly than ever.

The sun rose in the horizon, casting the light over a body which lay slumped against wall, clawed wounds still open and burn marks still evident. The body of a Blaziken, with its own claw piercing its heart.


End file.
